A Witch Lost in Time
by Professional Widow
Summary: In the second chapter, Draco battles with unwanted emotions and Hermione takes him to an ancient ritual, but not before they both visit a familiar place.
1. Chapter 1

A Witch Lost in Time

**A/N: Just a small warning--there are spoilers from _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_ in this fic.**

Hermione Granger smiled as she nursed her affection for books, her finger running along the spines, but her smile soon faded as she remembered the reason she'd come to the Golden Galleon, the new bookstore in Hogsmeade. Flipping through the book to its index, she searched for 'Elementoria,' and upon finding nothing, Hermione replaced the book on its shelf. Only a few people she'd talked to over the past few months had ever heard of the Elementoria, but she wasn't about to give up; she'd vowed to do whatever she could to help Harry in his quest for the other Horcruxes, and she was not one to break a vow.

"You're Hermione Granger, aren't you?" asked a small voice at Hermione's waist. She looked down to see a boy who looked strangely familiar, with his honey-colored curls and deep brown eyes. "I've heard of you. You're Harry Potter's girlfriend." Hermione laughed.

"Not his girlfriend, no," she replied, though she suspected the boy wouldn't believe her anyway. "What's your name?"

"Flavian," called a woman across the store. The boy grabbed Hermione's hand for a moment, looked up at her and flashed a toothy grin before running back to his mother. Hermione watched him for a moment, puzzled by his familiarity, then turned back to the bookshelves. She nearly cried out in joy in the next moment, for she spotted a book with the title blatantly obvious--_Elementoria: A Study_. She eagerly picked it up, felt a tingle in her fingers she accounted to excitement, and opened it up. Suddenly she found herself plunged into some kind of a place where events from Wizarding and Muggle history alike raced by with the speed of sound, a jerk behind her navel reminding her of what it was like to travel by Portkey. Was the book a Portkey? She couldn't see why it would be, but she didn't have time to think about it as a feeling of nausea assailed her. She shut her eyes tightly but as soon as she did she landed on a cold stone floor on her back, the breath knocked out of her and her eyes automatically flying back open.

She turned her head and caught sight of a chamber pot beneath a bed. She didn't even glance at her surroundings as she thought, "_Accio pot,_" and ungracefully retched into it. Feeling better, she sat up and felt the gentle grip of a woman crouched beside her. Her eyes narrowed in puzzlement as she took in the woman's appearance. She appeared to be Remus Lupin's age, roughly forty, and wore a purple velvet dress with a gold cord decorated with stones of topaz braided in looped around her waist. Her hair was in many elaborate plaits twisted around her head.

"Milady?" asked another woman, and Hermione looked to her other side. This woman appeared about two years younger than Hermione, and wore a simpler dress of red velvet, a plain silver cord around her waist. Her hair was in a simple knot at the back of her head covered by a thin silver net. They both looked as though they had walked right out of a history book on the Middle Ages, and an alarmed Hermione looked down at her own self. She was in a white linen nightdress, embroidered with blue thread around the edges in the shapes of flowers and stars. Her hair was the same as it had been in the bookstore--long, brown, and with _very_ unruly waves.

"She has had another vision, Silima," spoke the lady with the purple dress.

"Milady," said Silima, touching Hermione's shoulder and staring in her eyes. "To pass the test you set for yourself, I must ask you--what is your name?" Hermione stared at her for a moment, her heart thumping wildly in her chest as she racked her mind for a name that would be accurate. Then, as though somebody had whispered it in her ear, she replied.

"Lady Morgaine of Witchwood, daughter of the Lord Valkano of Witchwood." Silima and the other woman seemed satisfied with her answer, and both helped Hermione to her feet. Her vision swam in front of her and blacked for a moment, but she quickly regained sight and balance. She looked around the room, taking in the surroundings; there was a bed, a bureau, an open door that led to a wardrobe of many colorful dresses, and a large, golden-framed mirror standing in one corner. Hermione caught sight of her reflection, and cringed. Her hair had been tangled by her journey from 1999 to wherever she was now--she thought it unwise to ask--and her skin was deathly pale. Other than that, though, she looked quite like Hermione Jane Granger, born September 19, 1979.

"Come," said the lady whose name Hermione didn't know yet, "we must get you your bath and then to get dressed for the feast to meet Xanthus." She gave a smile, and Hermione uneasily smiled back, for the chamber pot was looking quite inviting again. She didn't ask who Xanthus was, for she had enough common sense to realize by the way the lady was smiling that this 'Xanthus' was apparently her fiancé. _This just gets better by the minute,_ thought Hermione. As the women pulled her dress over her head and began to wash her with a cloth wet from the silver basin on the dresser, she searched her mind for any mention of Witchwood she might have read. Finally, she remembered that it was one of the first all-Wizarding towns to become integrated with Muggles, shortly after the founding of Hogwarts. She'd never read anything about Lord Valkano or his daughter Morgaine, but she knew that she was stuck in a time after the founding of Hogwarts--for Silima and the woman were caught in a conversation about the Muggles beginning their talk of their ruler's conversion.

"He is not even of the religion of Avalon," said the lady incredulously. "Why should they concern themselves with trying to convince him to convert to their faith?"

"They have not any better talk to amuse themselves with," replied Silima. "Valkano is a good leader to them--he has been victorious in all his battles with any invader, there is no reason to dislike him. I think they are just worried for his fate in the afterlife. I heard some of them talking of Morgaine's visions when I went in the market."

"Muggles can have visions too," Hermione blurted, and both the women nodded.

"Of course they can. I think they believe there is something better about yours, lady, for you _are_ of a non-Christian, pureblood, Wizarding line. There has to be something mystical about you that will keep them talking." Hermione felt her brain go numb. _Pureblood? I'm suddenly pureblooded?_

After what seemed like hours of tugging on Hermione's hair and fooling with laces on her gown, the two women finally led her in front of the mirror, to which her back had been turned as they fixed her up. She wore a dress of apple-green silk, golden embroidery along the hem and neckline. Silima and the older lady had done Hermione's hair in two braids that twisted around her head, and she'd been given a circlet of gold with a sheer golden veil that would fit snugly beneath her chin when she lowered it, and an emerald dangling from the circlet against the middle of her brow to complete the look.

"He is very handsome," said Silima with a giggle. "And he is just a bit younger than you, by but a few months." Hermione didn't want to tell her nice maidservant that she didn't particularly care about Xanthus or this pureblood marriage, that she just wanted to get back to her time. She stayed silent as all three of them walked down many curving stairs to the great hall of the castle. As they entered, the chatter of forty knights, twenty members from Xanthus's family, and eighteen of Morgaine's, all fell silent, and three men stood at the head of the table. Two of them were blonde, and the other had greying brown hair, upon which sat a golden crown. _My father--or rather, Morgaine's. Valkano._

"And this is the bride herself," said Valkano in a booming voice. Everybody rose and swept into bows before sitting back down. "Elaine, Silima, you may take your seats. I would like for my daughter to meet my near son-in-law without accompaniment." Hermione swallowed as all eyes were fixated on her, and she began to move forward. The younger blonde man moved forward, though Hermione couldn't see his features, for her eyes were focused on the far wall to avoid the gazes of everybody. When she reached him, she did not look at his face but immediately went into an elaborate curtsy she wasn't even aware she knew. _This is a dream, it must be._

"There is no need to curtsy to one who is to be your husband," said a familiar voice, and Hermione wanted very much to die on the spot. _Surely not, for that would make this a nightmare. Goddess, please don't let it be--_ Hermione straightened, and looked hard into the grey eyes of Draco Malfoy, an icy smile on her face.

"Milord," she said in a voice laced with venom. Draco's expression was one of blatant confusion and anger.

"Milady," he replied, bending in a small bow that was hardly even enough to consider a bow. "For once, the rumours were true--you are lovely." His response was cool, well-rehearsed, and held no meaning. It didn't bother Hermione in the least.

"Your compliments do not go unnoticed, lord," she turned toward her father. "Might I inquire as to when we will feast?"

"In a while, daughter," replied Valkano. "While we wait, would you like to show Lord Xanthus the gardens? You can get to know each other better in person, for you have corresponded with owls for too long." The idea didn't thrill Hermione at all, but she just wanted to get somewhere she could be alone with him, and this provided the perfect opportunity.

"Of course, I would be honored. Come, lord," she said, grabbing his hand and marching him from the hall, ignoring the odd looks she got at her sudden shown anger. She had no clue as to where the gardens were, but an empty bedroom would do--anything.

"I think I have the right to ask what the hell are you--"

"Shut up!" she hissed, whirling angrily around to face him as he jerked his hand away from her. "We have to get somewhere private before we start yelling at each other."

"The gardens are this way," he sighed exasperatedly, and led her to a pair of double-doors and flung them open. Rows of neatly trimmed hedges and rosebushes met her eyes, but she found a stone bench immediately, heaved the doors shut behind them and walked to the bench, throwing herself onto it. He sat down at the opposite end of it, not very far at all from her. She had no idea how he'd known the gardens were where they were, but she could've cared less at the moment.

"Don't be so immature," she spat as he turned away from her. "If you don't know what we're doing back here or how we got sent back, and I suspect you don't, we have to learn to work together at least to figure out how to get back. It's what mature adults do, see." He turned to look at her.

"Not two adults fighting on opposite sides of the--"

"There _is_ no war with Voldemort here," she snapped and he fell silent. "I'm not going to beg you to work with me, but if you decide to grow up during this whole deal, then you'll pretend that we can actually stand each other and are civilized human beings. Apparently the real Xanthus and Morgaine liked each other enough to regularly correspond, so we need to also. It sounds like the wedding is very close, and we'll need to hurry and find our way back before the ceremony."

"You've always given me good ideas, Granger, I'll give you that," said Draco after a pause. "I suppose I'll 'grow up' for the time being, anyway. Do you know where exactly Witchwood is?"

"Is that where we are now?" she asked, and he nodded. "It's a town about thirty minutes north of Hogwarts, and it was a purely Wizarding area until Hogwarts was founded. It seems word of my--or rather, Morgaine's--visions have reached the Muggles in the town, and they want our family to convert."

"I wonder if there are still Anti-Disapparation Jinxes on Hogwarts," he said. It angered Hermione that he even mentioned Hogwarts--the very place he would sneak Death Eaters into, even if it was little less than a millenia later.

"Probably," she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "The three Founders remaining after Slytherin's departure would have prevented him from a surprise attack--really, he and any other attacker planning an invasion. Remember, we _are_ in the Middle Ages. Speaking of, do you know what exact year we're in?" He scowled at the distaste in her voice at the mention of Salazar Slytherin.

"1249, according to Lucian--my 'father'." Hermione quickly did the mathematics in her head. She couldn't be trapped 750 years in the past and pass up a trip to Hogwarts in its early years--even if it meant Draco Malfoy was part of the deal.

"Okay. Do you know anything of my 'pureblood' line--" Draco smirked, "or at least of Valkano of Witchwood and his daughter, Morgaine?" She wondered if she'd been named for Morgana, or Morgaine, le Fay, for the legend of the sorceress, Arthur, Lancelot, and Guinivere had been around for a long time before Malory recorded the tales in the fifteenth century.

"Only that one of my ancestors--Xanthus--married Morgaine; that's just a few years after my family tree starts, so not very much is known about them." Hermione sighed, but before she could say anything more, Silima appeared.

"Lord Valkano sent me to tell you that the feast is ready."

"Thank you," Hermione smiled, and she rose in a rustle of skirts, following Silima back into the great hall with Draco on her heels. Everybody stood once again.

"Xanthus and Morgaine, the betrothed to who we will make a toast," boomed Valkano, raising his goblet. Everybody followed suit. "To the two jewels of the two most powerful, pureblood families of our world."

"To Xanthus and Morgaine," the hall echoed. Hermione looked out at all the beaming faces--most red with drunkenness from the Firewhisky--and sighed, keeping the smile on her face. How would she survive however long it took to figure out how to get back and successfully keep up the part of Morgaine of Witchwood?

**A/N: Sorry for all these annoying little author's notes, but you know it's because I love you all! All I wanted to explain are the names, for I know there are two really weird ones. Firstly, 'Morgaine' (which isn't that odd, is it really?) comes from _The Mists of Avalon_, a great movie that I am definitely not recommending. Anywho, 'Flavian' is Greek for "blonde, yellow," according to Now for the weird ones. 'Silima' is from J.R.R. Tolkien's _The Silmarillion_; it is, according to the Appendix, "the name...that Fëanor gave to the substance from which they were made." So basically, Silima means "shine (with white or silver light)," which I thought was appropriate because of the cord and the net she wears. I'm weird, I know. And finally (this is like a novel in itself, isn't it?), 'Valkano' is also from _The Silmarillion_, but is a combination of two words I just stuck together. 'Val-' means "power" and 'káno' means "commander."**

**Okay...so I'll let you guys review now because I know you want to.**

**-P.W.**


	2. Chapter 2

A Witch Lost In Time

Chapter Two

The morning was clear and bright, sun streaming through the windows in the great hall. Draco ate the simple breakfast given to him silently, moodily glancing across the table at Hermione every few minutes. She was embroidering a long white cloth, for she'd finished her breakfast already and was waiting on Draco. He'd been less than enthusiastic when he found out that he couldn't sit around the castle all day, but had to accompany Hermione, Elaine, and Silima to the market, where they would get their wedding clothes made. Luckily Xanthus's father, Lucian, would also come along with them, as well as the house-elf that was Xanthus's servant.

Draco had been shocked when he'd picked up the book and ended up in a carriage much like the ones from Hogwarts, but nothing compared to the shock and horror he felt when he realized his only companion from his own time was none other than the golden girl of Gryffindor herself. Hermione looked as though she was just as excited at the prospect of being Draco's wife shortly, but as much as he hated to admit it, she was right. They would have to cooperate at least for the time it would take to get back. But _really_, the Middle Ages were so...primitive. Sure, he was still a pureblood of his own line--thank Goddess--but the food was undercooked and the sauce tasted bland. The clothes were certainly not silky dress robes, either, but scratchy wool and rough linen. And what the hell was up with the toilets? This was not the way Draco planned to find out about the Elementoria, but he was sure that the book hadn't taken him back to 1249 just to leave him here. There had to be a connection.

"Xanthus...Xanthus? _Draco!_" Hissed Hermione through clenched teeth. He looked up at her, for now she was standing, and Silima and Elaine were beside her. She smiled pleasantly, and had he not known she was pretending for the people around, he would have believed she liked him. "Milord, it's time to head into the market."

"Oh--right," said Draco, mentally slapping himself. _Good job, now they'll all be suspecting you're mad._ "My deepest apologies, I was lost in thought." Hermione smirked, and turned on her heel, the two women following her from the hall. Lucian was waiting at the doors, and Draco hurried behind the women. They piled all into one carriage, Draco, the house-elf, and Lucian on one side, and Hermione and her two shadows on the other. Elaine was giving him a wide, knowing smile as his eyes flickered over Hermione, but he ignored the older witch. Hermione was wearing a deep purple gown today, a golden veil hiding her features from beneath her eyes and downward. Her hair was in a simple braid down her back, the golden circlet around her forehead again but with an amethyst in the emerald's place today. She caught Draco staring suddenly and he felt a swoop in his stomach, but looked sharply away. _Even if she can pull off being pureblooded here, she'll always been a filthy Muggle-born to me. She wouldn't be able to fool my mother, anyway--these people are too untutored in the ways of the pure--_

"Madam Loryn!" Draco looked out the open carriage door at a plump, grey-haired woman that bore a faded resemblance to Madam Malkin in Diagon Alley. "It is always so lovely to see you again." Draco followed the others out of the carriage, watching as Madam Loryn pulled Hermione into a hug.

"Morgaine! It has been nigh fifteen years since I laid my old eyes on you, and now you're to be married." Hermione smiled and glanced at Draco. "Is this your betrothed? My, a fine man, and of the ancient blood too? Ah, I thought as much."

The fitting process took even longer than it did in Malkin's shop, and when they were finally handed wrapped packages that held their dress robes and clothes that Draco thrust into his house-elf's hands, they climbed back in the carriage but didn't leave, for Hermione had asked for a moment.

"Forgive me, but could we visit Hogwarts?"

"Hogwarts?" echoed Silima, Elaine, Draco, and Lucian all together.

"But milady, it is near midday, we will get there at supper! Will not your father be worried?"

"Then let him worry," said Hermione with a determined gleam in her eyes. "We shall send him a letter when we arrive, but I desire to visit the castle. Is it a crime?"

"No," sputtered Silima, "but if the Headmaster doesn't know you're coming--"

"He will know," said Hermione, and Draco wondered how the hell she was convincing herself of all this. "Please, it is only for a day, and when Xanthus and I are married, I might not be able to visit again." The two women and Lucian looked at each other for a bit, but Draco felt like slapping Hermione. Even if they did go, when would she find the time alone to research time-travel? Did the medieval people even know much about time-travel? _Magic goes much further back than the Middle Ages,_ he reminded himself, but it didn't do much to comfort him. He wondered if anybody in this time period had traveled back 750 years like he and Hermione.

"Very well," Elaine and Lucian nodded at each other. "We will have to send an owl to Valkano immediately after arrival. Do you both have your wands with you?" Hermione drew her wand, and Draco followed suit. "In case there is an attack whilst we are there; these are dangerous times, though the fortress of Hogwarts is strong." Hermione glared at Draco, and he could practically hear her thinking of their sixth year. He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes in front of all the company, and settled back into his seat.

"The ride will be long," said Hermione, as if they didn't know it already. "So if any of you desire to go back to the castle, I have enough knowledge of magic to fend for myself should anything happen. Xanthus is here as well, I think that we are capable."

"No, milady, I'm not leaving you," said Silima. Elaine touched the girl's hand.

"It's all right, Silima," she said, and glanced at Hermione sharply. "I think you are not feeling well, lady, you are not acting yourself." Draco noticed Hermione swallow in apprehension, her cheeks colouring.

"I--I'm just a bit full of nerves before my wedding, you must understand," Hermione finally said, and the two women on either side of her sighed in relief. What they had been thinking was going on, Draco had no idea, nor really cared to inquire. "I beg pardon." For a moment, Draco and Hermione locked eyes, and if Draco had not been so bent on finding out why Hermione had acted so impulsively when she had usually a formulaic mind, he would have sworn her lips twitched in a smile.

"But of course! We will get you all food, for surely you are hungry after your long journey!" boomed the voice of the Headmaster of Hogwarts, a red-haired man called Everard.

"Sir, I was wondering," said Hermione shyly, and Draco inwardly groaned, "if while your house-elves prepare our dinner, Xanthus and I could visit your library. I have not been there in too many moons, and it was always a favorite room of mine."

"Of course, of course!" Everard laughed. "Do explore any rooms you may wish, though, of course, if your guardians approve." Draco was really getting sick of the looks Elaine and Lucian were giving each other, but there they went again.

"It would be a good opportunity for us to get to know each other better," offered Draco, to get Hermione's heavy gaze off of him. "You know what you always say, Father, a witch's choice in books gives an insight to her mind." Lucian held his chin higher in pride, and for a moment, it was like looking at Lucius, not his ancestor.

"I agree with my boy, Lady Elaine," said Lucian. "I think it is a perfect time for the two to become closer. Their wedding is in five days, after all."

"Very well," said Elaine. "Off you go, we will send Silima to fetch you both when the dinner is prepared." Hermione curtsied, Draco bowed, and off they hurried to the library. The librarian looked at them oddly at first, but when Hermione introduced herself as the Lady Morgaine of Witchwood, the librarian's eyes widened and she swept into one of those damned curtsies everybody and their mother did when they knew Hermione was Morgaine.

"My lady, it has been years since I saw you last, but you still look just the same. Lord Xanthus, it is an honour to see you again as well," she bowed and Hermione grinned.

"It is good to see you again too. We have come to see if there are any new books here."

"Loads," answered the librarian. "Just look around at your leisure." She went back to writing on parchment, and Hermione grabbed Draco's hand, leading him to a section in the back. Draco yanked his hand away once they were out of eye- and earshot.

"You don't have to drag me around like I'm a child," he snapped. "You forget, Granger, _I _am the true pureblood here, I know how to act--"

"Come _off _it, Malfoy!" Hermione hissed. "If you haven't forgotten, I have to play the part of a pureblooded woman, and I thought we both agreed to act as though we could tolerate each other. If you're going to make this hard for me, I'll just research all of this on my own and leave you behind. Don't make the mistake of thinking I won't, either." Her voice was full of poison as her eyes radiated rage Draco had never seen before from her. Draco reached up a hand to touch her face but she whirled and began searching through old labeled scrolls and barely-bound books. _What's going on? First you can't stop staring at her in the carriage, and now you wanted to touch her lips, her face? Your father would have disowned you for that, and probably have you killed._ Another voice in his mind reminded him annoyingly that his father wasn't here right now, but he shoved it aside.

"Here. Read this," she handed him a scroll, her eyes not meeting his, and he sighed, beginning to read. It was in a form of Middle English, but Draco's mind translated it easily, something he suspected was a side-effect of traveling back to this particular time.

**_Time travel is as old as the world itself, yet remains a mysterious subject. There is no true way to define how we as humans travel through the world of time, and deliberate or accidental travel into the past or the future can cause many complications for the travellers and for the surrounding people if events from either are meddled with. If a wizard or witch travels in time, they take on serious consequences that could, in essence, destroy their present or future selves; if they are destroyed in the past then there is no present or future for the traveller._**

"Well, this one is particularly optimistic," said Draco as Hermione sat down next to him.

"They're all pretty gloomy," she agreed, and for a while they seemed to forget all the animosity that had ever been between them. Draco found his thoughts straying to her, not for the first time today--even the simplest things like the way her arm was resting against his got his attention. She smelled of lavender, something Draco knew women placed in bundles in their wardrobes or dressers to keep moths out. Her chest rose and fell with her breaths, and--

_Snap the hell out of it! _The voice screamed in his head.

**What if I don't want to? There's nothing here stopping me!**

_You forgot one thing. She's Hermione Granger, a Mudblood, a filthy girl who hangs out with filthy Potter and Weasley--_

**But she's not hanging out with them now, and she's not _that_ filthy...** The voice ceased after that, and Draco sighed, but Hermione must have sensed some discomfort.

"What is it?" Draco shook his head, mostly to try and get his feelings under control. He didn't want to remind himself that it was only their second day here--by the looks of things they would be here a lot longer, and if he was already having feelings for Hermione, he'd be in trouble. _But I don't have feelings for her..._

**What if you do?**

_Not you again. I really must be going mad--it's being in Voldemort's circle...that's got to be it. It's finally making me crack, so I can use that as a reason to my father when he finds out--_

**Who said he was going to find out? Lucian is your father here, and you're already going to be married to Hermione. You'll just be getting a head start on things if you can like her now.**

A sharp nudge to Draco's elbow shattered his reverie, and he looked up to see Silima looking down at them.

"Milord, milady, the dinner is ready. We will have the Great Hall to ourselves tonight," she said before walking off. Hermione and Draco looked at each other, both surprised Hermione's maidservant would leave them without walking them back to the Great Hall. _Maybe she thinks we were furiously making out,_ Draco thought with amusement and slight surprise that he didn't find the idea repulsive.

"Well, I suppose we should put these back--"

"Are you kidding me?" said Hermione, startling Draco. "We're taking them."

"But you can't take scrolls out of the--"

"No, we can't," she interrupted him for the second time, "but we can _borrow_ them." She pulled out her wand, tapped each of the eight scrolls she'd gotten, including Draco's, and they each shrunk to the size of a toothpick. She then grabbed them and stuffed them into the slim pocket on the backside of the cord that fell straight down to the end of the dress from the middle of the cord around her waist. It was also where she kept her wand, and she stuffed that in also. Draco's mouth went slack. _My bad influence has rubbed off after all,_ he noted smugly, and settled into a smirk.

"Shut up," she muttered as they smiled and thanked the librarian on their way out. "I'll return them, but they were the only scrolls or books on time travel, and they could prove useful."

"I didn't even say anything," said Draco with a near-smile. "If it weren't for your Muggle heritage, you could have been in Slytherin with that stunt." Draco wouldn't swear it, but he thought he'd seen a smile on her face for an instant.

Wind raced by, making Draco's chin-length hair he usually had tied back fly freely back from his face, and he dug his heels harder into the horse's sides to try and catch up with Hermione, who was already halfway across the castle grounds. They'd been allowed a horse ride through the hills surrounding the castle for miles, and Hermione seemed intent on beating Draco to wherever she was planning on going. The ride was exhilarating albeit bumpier than riding on a broomstick, and Draco was glad to get out of the castle and not into another bloody carriage. In the past two days, they had been to a variety of stores and had met with many of the guests that had come to stay at the castle. Draco was weary of meeting people, but even more so as the hours continued and he and Hermione made no progress with a way to get back to 1999. Draco's feelings were still unresolved about Hermione as well, and that was tiring him.

They were approaching a forest, and before Draco could call out to Hermione, she disappeared amongst the trees. It was growing dark, but finding Hermione wasn't Draco's worry--she was wearing a dress of pale pink and her horse was a light brown--but as they traveled farther from the castle, he wasn't sure he'd be able to find his way back, and Apparation wasn't his favorite way of travel.

"Where are we going?" he yelled as he entered the forest to find Hermione waiting for him on a path not far up ahead. He slowed his horse and they began a slow trot through.

"Don't yell so loudly," she said in a quiet voice.

"And why not?"

"This is an ancient forest, do you have any respect for nature?" she gave him a sidelong look. "Anyway, you'll see where we're going. It's a surprise." A look of mischief passed in her eyes, and Draco sighed. He was always so impatient, but it seemed Hermione would not give up any secrets tonight. After riding for a while, just as Draco's lower half began to grow numb, Hermione halted her horse. Draco followed suit, and she held up a hand to silence him before he even began to talk. Then it reached his ears--drum beats, an eerie sort of singing that sent a tingle to the ends of his toes. He could see the light of a fire flickering between the trees, and a thump on the ground next to him made him realize Hermione had dismounted her horse. She motioned for him to do the same, and once they tethered their horses to two trees, they began to walk toward the music, and toward the fire.

When they reached an open field, the music was loud and the fire bright in the now fully darkened night, a waxing moon in the sky. There were men and women dancing around in circles, their skin painted. Draco could feel the energy crackling in the air, and he jumped as a hand grasped his arm gently. Hermione was smiling, the firelight playing over her features.

"It is the celebration of Beltane, and there--that is where the great marriage is going to take place." Draco had vaguely heard of the celebration, but he hadn't a real clue as to what it was. His expression must have asked the question he did not speak verbally, for Hermione continued. "The great marriage is a sexual rite performed by two people chosen by the Goddess and the God. They symbolize that Goddess and God as they perform the rite--the female is a virgin huntress, and the male is the one who kills the king stag. Beltane is the night of becoming the Maiden phase of the Goddess for women." Hermione walked forward then, and Draco numbly followed her, all his questions going unspoken still.

Hermione reached the edge of the circle, and one of the painted people, a woman, broke from the dancing others and held out a small clay pot full of a dark green liquid. Hermione smiled, nodded in thanks, and dipped her fingertips in the liquid. She then spread the liquid onto her cheeks, forehead, and down her neck and the bit of chest shown by the low neck of her dress.

"Your turn," she said with a small smile, and Draco put his fingers in the liquid and smeared it onto his face and neck. A strange sort of heat not from the fire flowed through him then, and he looked at Hermione for an answer. She straightened, grasped his hands and pressed her palms against his, raising them between their chests.

"Find the answers, ask the questions," she whispered before her lips covered his. It felt as though a Bludger had hit him in the pit of his stomach, and he instinctively moved closer to her, pulling his hands back so they could rest instead on her hips, drawing them against his. Her hands came up to rest on his shoulders but moved up into his hair as he deepened the kiss. It was something forbidden, he knew, and yet he couldn't pull back, couldn't bring himself to care too much about what his father and mother would think of him; it was as if the situation made him want Hermione even more. He had never felt the way he felt now whenever he'd kissed a girl--most of his kisses before had been meaningless, but now, the way she slid her lips over his, the way she sighed against him, it made his stomach twist with an emotion he'd never felt before that was pleasant and alarming at the same time. Then it all ended--Hermione drew back and he opened his eyes to see her with a smile not on her lips but in her eyes.

"Why did you...?" he let it trail off into nothingness.

"I wanted to see if you felt it too," she answered simply. "I know things are still rocky between us, it's only our fourth day here, but our wedding is tomorrow, and I figured we might as well get our first kiss out of the way so it wouldn't be too weird. Elaine told me the Beltane celebration was tonight, and I thought it would be a good time to get it out of the way. My--er, Morgaine's--father tried to get the wedding on the night of Beltane since he has grown up with the celebrations of those near Avalon."

"Why didn't he?" Draco felt addicted to the energy of this night, and the consecration of the marriage that he knew they had to perform would have gone a lot more smoothly with the magicalness of the night.

"I don't know," said Hermione softly. After a pause, she said, "Well, I suppose we'd better get back to the castle--it will be time for bed soon."

"What about our paint?" he said, touching a hand to his cheek. She smiled.

"Let them wonder," she said. "I think I've found a way for us to get back."

**A/N: Hello again! I just have a little credit to give--**

**First, the line "Find the answers, ask the questions" that Hermione says to Draco is from Loreena McKennitt's song "Night Ride Across the Caucasus" from her album** _Book of Secrets_.** Next, credit goes to the makers of _Mists of Avalon_, for without them/it, I wouldn't have had the image in my head of the night of Beltane.**

**Random fact--Beltane is a real celebration, one most Wiccans (including myself, with the exclusion of the great marriage :D) honor and celebrate in the Spring, which is when this is supposed to take place.**

**I apologize if this chapter seems rushed, but the ideas started flowing and I had to write this Beltane scene before I forgot it.**

**In the next chapter, expect the marriage consecration scene (it's not too graphic, but it's not going to be sugar-coated either) so just a little warning.**

**Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and please review!**

**-Professional Widow**


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